


Flickering

by BloodStones



Series: RIP AND TEAR [1]
Category: Doom (Video Games)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Blood and Gore, Doom Slayer gives a dying survivor some comfort, Gore, Mild Gore, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader Death, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodStones/pseuds/BloodStones
Summary: Doom Slayer finds a dying reader and offers them what comfort he can.
Relationships: Doom Slayer | Doomguy/Reader
Series: RIP AND TEAR [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027882
Kudos: 67





	Flickering

**Author's Note:**

> The Doom Slayer cherishes the innocent.  
> Warning: Mild gore, reader death
> 
> Not entirely happy with this but cant be bothered to edit yet

It hurt. God it hurt so much. To breath, to move. Moving you could avoid, letting your damaged body lay still on the ground, arm at an awkward angle and a few other bodies on top of your legs. Heavy enough to keep you there even if you did try to move. Breathing? You couldn't exactly stop that. It even hurt not to breath. You did the only thing you could do: inhale with wet rattling breaths, and exhale long and drawn out. The pain wasn’t *as bad that way. At least none of the bodies were on your chest, the weight might have made it even worse. 

The light above you was one of the few not flickering, remaining bright and clear, searing into your vision. You couldn’t look away. The gore and destruction of demonic hordes hadn’t touched the bit of ceiling above you, leaving it spotless. Like none of this ever happened. You’d close your eyes when the shadows and sounds of demons got too close, but they seemed uninterested in a near lifeless body. No fun to be had toying with the dying? Almost a shame. At least you’d have an idea when the end was coming. But now you just get to lay in a pool of blood, yours? Maybe. The blood of your friend ripped in half beside you? Also likely. 

Why care anyways. Blood was blood, yours or theirs, it was finally enough to reach the back of your head. Enough to taste it in there air with the smell of burning plastic. Your fingers flexed without though, feeling the stickiness. The other arm didn't move at all, but you could feel fire flare through it. Just a moment (or was it hours) ago you had been running for the exit with the others, security leading the way. Next you were thrown against the wall something blew.. Ears ringing, vision blurry. As the smoke cleared, you could hear coworkers being murdered. Toyed with. Could you really consider yourself lucky not to go through the same? They at least found death. 

Distant gunfire went off, not too close but not far. Demons howled, screeches echoing. Maybe some security had given it another go to the shuttle. Tried to survive before being silenced. It brought a slight smile to your lips, hoping they took a few out before going down. Some of those screeches sounded pained. Your heartbeat sounded in your ears, steady dull thumping. Slower than you would have expected of yourself. And so faint, was it giving up? Would you finally begin to fade?

But it did not fade. It grew louder. Closer. Far too metallic to be a heartbeat. It did not match the pounding you realized was in your chest. They were footsteps. Solid, heavy footsteps of something large. Mustering what strength you could, you raised your upper body. Better arm shaking under the weight. Whole body screaming, the right side flaring up as if you were on fire. You panted heavily with the effort. If there was someone alive, if there was hope you could make it. Those shuttles had medical pods!

Your hopes were quickly dashed. A shadow, unfamiliar, loomed against the walls. Headed down this hall. Another demon? One of those giant hooved things you saw on a security screen? Maybe it would pass you without glance. Maybe it would end you. Couldn’t quite tell what you were hoping for most. You let your body fall back down, groaning as your skull hit the ground. You tried to hold your breath, eyes gazing emptily into the light above. Trying to look dead.

You could feel the vibrations across the floor. They were close. Another moment and they would be on top of you. You prayed you were still enough, dead looking enough. The blood beneath you had to help. When the footsteps felt like they shook the ground, you could finally see him out of your peripheral. Clad in armor and armed to the teeth. The Doom Slayer. Your heart stopped as he spared the pile of bodies you were a part of a glance before looking onward. Ready to fight whatever lay waiting. You had seen him briefly. Heard the stories. Was he truly a savior, or just another blood thirsty beast from hell? You didn't want to take that chance. 

The pain of holding your breath was too much, you were unable to stop the strained noise that echoed through the empty hall. The footsteps stopped. You held your breath again, staring upwards. Just keep still…. Maybe he would keep going. But the echoing came closer. Each one making your heart race faster, breathing choked erratic hyperventilation. The giant soldier came into view, visor staring down at your broken form. Tilting to the side, shotgun pointed down. You were sure if it was meant to be aimed at you. The lights no longer offered the solace they did before, so you tore your eyes away, ready to face your death head on. Even if every fiber of your being was panicking, wanting to stay alive. 

It felt like waiting an eternity. Time slowed down so that each breath raked through lungs and throat, eyes tearing up (in pain or in fear?). This was it. Death by the Doom Slayer. Maybe he thought he was giving you mercy? Putting you out of your misery. You certainly would have seen it that way were it not your broken body clinging onto life. 

When he knelt, placing the gun to the side, you winced at first, body trying to shy away. He waited a moment before moving again. Eyes following his movements best you could, neck far too stiff to do so without wanting to scream. An armored hand, nearly as large as your chest lay flat against you, raising with each breath. His thumb tapping, to what your realized was your own heart beat. Uneven, Erratic. Missing a few beats. You were dying.

But you already knew that. 

He knew that. And you swear, in his eyes past the glass of the visor, was sadness or pity within fiery anger. Moving from your chest, the same hand came to cup the side of your face far too tenderly for what you would have considered him capable of. You saw him rip demons apart with these very hands. It felt warm, also unexpected but not unpleasant. Whining from pain, you pressed your face into the touch. Eyes closing with a sigh.

He let out a grunt, as if he had come to a decision, spurred into moving. Arms sliding under your body. You wail as he picks you up. Even as careful as he is, there was so much damage that every slight movement was pain. He offered a grunt of apology as he stood fully, taking slow careful steps. Your head falling back with a gasp just as he passed a window. The soldier's reflection was intimidating but almost regal. A force to be felt and seen. In his arms was you. Weak and pathetic. The flesh of your legs nearly shredded by metal and melted plastic. Your upper body covered in burns, the useless arm black down to the bone. In the charred flesh of your side was a jagged piece of metal. You would never have survived this, even with medical care. It was a miracle you were not in shock. 

The Slayer found a small office room to his approval and a place to sit inside. Careful not to jostle you too much, but it was inevitable. You hissed slightly, biting your tongue as he adjusted your legs, so gentle with the marred flesh. One arm cradling your body to his while the free hand wiped smears of blood and loose hair from your face. He was looking down, almost butting helm to forehead until he was satisfied that you were cleaned up enough. He then tucked your head under his chin, moving slowly to support you this way. One hand up to your head, fingers rubbing small circles against your scalp. Careful to not get tangled in the bloody mess. It was nice. There was still pain, sharp, throbbing, everywhere in your body but the warmth of his armor seeped into your flesh and dulled what it could. 

You suddenly felt tired. Exhausted. No longer on high alert, able to let down some tension. Eyes half lidded, breath becoming shallow, but the position he had you in made it a little easier to breathe at least. Reverberating through his armor and into you, you felt it. Humming. A low broken tune he must have been making up on the spot. You weakly raised your working hand, thankful for his aid in placing it against his chest so you could feel more.

Your lips quirked into that weak little smile as the Doom slayer, of all people in the universe, comforted you in your final moments. You didn't have to struggle to breath anymore. Didn’t have to worry if you would lay there for hours or die in agony at the hands of demons. You could let go. It was hard to keep your eyes open at all and let them fall. The light no longer blindingly white but warm and welcoming. For a final blissful moment, there was nothing but warmth and the vibration of his humming. Then nothing

The final soft sigh and sudden heaviness stopped the tune. The Slayer remained mostly still, fingers tightening in hair as he pressed his helm against the body’s forehead. No words. No tears. Just burning fury already alight in his veins, now molten as innocence was once again tarnished. 

He cleared the office desk and carefully placed the body upon it, peace across the features. Almost as if they were sleeping, soon to wake from this nightmare. The Slayer locked the controls of the door behind him, retrieving his shotgun.


End file.
